The same procedure as every year - Alle Jahre wieder
by Pureblood-Slytherins
Summary: Christmas on board the Chimaera. Thrawn is not amused. Thrawn and Gilad Pellaeon.


**The same procedure as every year - Alle Jahre wieder**

_**Prologue**_

_The good crew of the ISD Chimaera liked Christmas - a lot._

_But Thrawn, the Chiss, did NOT!_

_Thrawn hated Christmas. Yes, the whole season._

_Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason._

_Could it be that he did not understand it just right?_

_Or was it just an emotional flight?_

_But I think the most likely reason of all,_

_May have been that during this time his sense of belonging was two sizes too small._

_Whenever the season arrived, without fail,_

_Thrawn would look out of the viewport and let out a wail._

"_So emotional, so human, so unbearably jolly._

_I must find a way to avoid this folly!"_

"Christmas isn't Christmas without a tree."

Thrawn suppressed a sigh. Captain Pellaeon had begun to show alarming signs of sentimentality after his sixties birthday. He was too relaxed and his punishments had become softer too. Actually, there had been a smile on his face since the 1st of December, a smile that had become broader with each passing day.

"Christmas will not cease to exist in absence of a tree, Captain." Thrawn said calmly. "And to be honest I fail to see why I should allow bringing items onto a Star Destroyer that are far better suited in a forest."

"Why? Because it's Christmas!" the older man said enthusiastically.

Because it's Christmas... Naturally! Why did he even ask? Living with humans never failed to fascinate him. Because it's Christmas... For humans that was the universal (and perfectly reasonable!) excuse for everything that happened during the madness they called "a festive season".

Drunk on duty? Well, it's Christmas, Sir!

Airlock suicide after shore leave? That's what sometimes happens after Christmas, Sir.

A time of comfort and joy? Surely not for the only Chiss within the Imperial Navy. Madness. Every year.

"You really want a Christmas tree, holly, ivy, and all the other traditional Christmas decorations? On board the Chimaera?"

Usually, he didn't repeat himself, but it was worth a try.

"Yes, Sir and it's not just me. The whole crew has been complaining that we don't even have the most basic Christmas decorations."

"This is a battleship."

Usually, humans were quite capable of seeing reason, and so the Chiss was confident that this argument should carry some weight. But it didn't.

"Other Star Destroyers have Christmas parties."

Thrawn clenched his jaw tightly. Christmas parties?! Palpatine be merciful!

"And..." Pellaeon hesitated.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Granted."

And then it came - THE argument.

"They think the Chimera doesn't have Christmas decorations because your kind doesn't celebrate Christmas."

So that was how the Chimera got its first Christmas tree, large and very nicely decorated. Well, if they had to have one, it should at least be pretty. But there was only one, confined to the Officer's Lounge and with that for personal use only.

Still, it was unbelievable.

He hated Christmas.

Thrawn found his Captain in the Officer's Lounge, writing something. While coming closer he saw that it was a Christmas card. He sat down next to the human.

"So here you are."

"Yes, I had to get into the mood to write these." He nodded towards the Christmas tree.

"Do you want one of my Christmas cards?" The Captain asked.

"Certainly not." Thrawn said drily and looked down on a colourful card with a jumping reindeer. A truly abysmal thing. How could humans enjoy that? If they insisted on this infernal tradition, why couldn't they choose some nice cards? Some with a bit a of style and not this...monstrosity? For someone like him, who had profound knowledge about and a passion for art, the card's layout was almost painful to watch. The theme was an unimaginative disaster, the technique was clumsy and the colours looked like they had been taken right out of a child's box of watercolours. All in all, the painted screamed that the 'artist' had no talent whatsoever. It was a disgrace to the whole profession and to the festivity it advertised! There was absolutely no deeper meaning behind it. A child could have produced this! A second look at the 'painting' reaffirmed his suspicion. Probably the "cute" factor out-weight quality and professionalism when it came to Christmas cards. But as far as he was concerned, no Christmas card was better than this Christmas card.

"It's better to give than to receive." He pushed the card over to the Chiss. "You could send one home."

"No, thanks."

Thrawn looked at Pellaeon's pile of cards.

"You cannot possibly have that many friends." Thrawn glared at the offendingly cheery tree in the corner. Yes, Gilad was friendly. But not THAT friendly. He wouldn't have one person to write. Well, maybe one or two... But it was not like he cared!

A waitress came over and took their orders. Gilad chose a mulled-wine "to get into the feeling" and Thrawn needed a whiskey.

He hated Christmas and was more than happy that it occurred only once a year.

"So what are your plans for Christmas Eve? Will you go to the Emperor's Ball on Coruscant?"

"No, I will stay here. I do not celebrate Christmas." Thrawn said coldly. It was obvious that he did not want to carry on with the subject.

"Why? You don't have to believe in it to celebrate it."

"Yes, but I chose not to and I doubt the Rebellion will go on holiday, just because Imperial High Society wants to celebrate a human tradition." Thrawn replied matter-of-factly.

"Yes... but it's special. You should try it at least once."

The waitress returned and Thrawn was thankful for his whiskey.

"I have had ample of opportunities to witness Christmas and there is nothing special about it, Captain. If anything it is dull."

"If you think so."

"I do. It is the same - every year: Tacky decorations, a dying tree, shallow materialism and a forced display of happiness and goodwill."

Humans were incredibly good at self-denial. On Christmas, they tried to be nice and donated lots of money for charities and for the remaining 364 days of the year they were the imperialist cancer that spread through the galaxy.

The only thing he would donate money for would be the abolishment of this farce.

Hoth. If the Emperor should ever ask him again what he wanted for a successful mission, his answer would be a house on Hoth and permission to stay there over Christmas. It was a harsh planet - cold and isolated. Just the way he liked it.

Thrawn tightened his grip on the datapad, walked down a long corridor and stopped at Captain Pellaeon's door. Then he rang. Once, twice, thrice...four times, fiv- the door opened and a sleepy looking Pellaeon looked outside.

"What...?"

"Thanks for letting me in." Thrawn just pushed passed him, switched on the light and walked towards the sitting area.

"Ähmmm... Sir...What are you doing here? I'm...ähhhh... I think I should change." Pellaeon looked down at this striped pyjama.

"I do not care. But what I do care about is this." Thrawn held up a photo of Pellaeon kissing Commander Faro in a doorframe.

"Were you drunk?"

"A little, perhaps. I had some glasses of eggnog, but if you want to know whether I was aware of my actions, the answer is 'yes'."

"Then why did you kiss her? It is against regulations, she is young enough to be your daughter and why, by the Emperor, did you do it so publicly?! If she sues you for sexual assault, I will not be able to help you!"

Pellaeon laughed, went over to a corner and then handed the Admiral a drink.

"Give me the photo, please." Thrawn handed him the datapad and Gilad slowly zoomed out.

"Do you see this? That's a mistletoe."

"Thank you for the botany lesson, but could we please talk about the problem at hand now?"

"It's a human Christmas tradition."

"I do not care. You want to transfer your garden inside during December? Fine."

"You miss the point."

"I have heard that before."

"No. You really do. When two people stand under a mistletoe decoration, they have to kiss."

Thrawn sat down on an armchair and then involuntary looked up. HUMANS. Only humans could make such idiotic rules and willingly follow them. Get drunk and kiss random people under a random plant. It fit their primal needs so perfectly!

"How many of these mistletoes are on board?" These things practically called for trouble!

"I don't know. Maybe three."

"I want them removed. All of them!"

He hated Christmas.

CHRISTMAS EVE

He was alone. Like he had wanted to be. He remembered his first years when Eli and some others had forced him to celebrate Christmas with them. Too much food, too much alcohol, terrible songs, idiotic gifts, a ghastly decorated tree.

He knew the others were celebrating down in the lounge, he knew he could go there too. They had said it seven times to be precise. But he didn't want to. He did not enjoy the presence of drunk humans. He did not want to celebrate the birth of a fictional character.

Then why did he think about it? Had he spent too much time with them? Had he become so used to them? Their irrational feelings? He had to admit that Christmas showed the best of humanity. Was he perhaps afraid to become too attached? And that, again, was a very human line of thought. They were rubbing off on him. He knew it. Attachments, emotions. Those were very dangerous things.

The doorbell rang. It was Captain Pellaeon.

"May I come in?" The older man asked.

"Of course."

"I do not want to stay long. I promised to join the others, you know... So..."

He held out a small parcel with a red bow.

"Gilad, what is the meaning of this?" The Chiss asked, eyeing the small parcel suspiciously.

"The human response would be 'thank you'." Pellaeon said drily, but, to his release, Thrawn took the present.

"I have told you before that I have no interest in celebrating Christmas. I, therefore, have no interest in receiving gifts. Nor do I have any interest in giving them."

Pellaeon sighed. Why did he have to make it so difficult? Usually, Thrawn was rather open-minded, but it looked like there was something about Christmas that really bothered him.

"I didn't buy you a present because I expect one in return, I simply enjoy making other people happy."

Thrawn shook his head. He would remind him of that the next time he questioned one of his strategies or made life difficult for him. Christmas - it was a seasonal human malaise, with no known cure. He had known it, he had known this would happen...

"Well, good I prepared for such an eventuality then." The Chiss walked over to a small wooden cabinet and then handed him a tiny, dark box.

"That does not mean I like it. It is just...expected. Merry Christmas."

Pellaeon smiled. Small steps, but the Chiss would get there eventually.

"Merry Christmas, Admiral."

**THE END**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading. If you liked the story, please leave kudos or write a comment.

* Title of a famous German Christmas song. It basically means "Every year again".


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